


stolen sweets

by Khismer



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, christmas shenanigans, gender-neutral reader (no pronouns)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-21 20:45:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13151709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khismer/pseuds/Khismer
Summary: christmas request for totally-not-niku; saeran waking up in the middle of the night and eating christmas cookies that were meant for santa and getting caught.listen: you knew he had a sweet tooth. you should have expected this.





	stolen sweets

He'd meant to resist, really he did.

But he just _keeps. Waking. Up_.

And every time he does, he thinks about the treasure trove of cookies just waiting in the living room, and he thinks about how he had hardly _any_ while they were fresh and warm. He had to watch them get sorted out and carefully packaged and sent to each of the members of the RFA until there was only a small percent of the original number left, and all of _that_ is being used for this stupid tradition, and now they're just sitting out there getting stale, waiting for _Santa._

Saeran gets grumpier and grumpier until finally he accepts that he's not going to fall asleep now, anyway, so he may as well go after what he's been wanting all night.

It’s not as if anyone in the house actually believes in Santa, anyway, for all his brother may posture and pretend. He gets why Saeyoung pushes the Santa angle -- now that they're together again, his brother has been doing everything he can to give them the ‘authentic Christmas experience.’ And _you_ \--

Saeran flushes a little, thinking of you sleeping just down the hall.

Well, you seem like you’re just thrilled to be invited  He can't exactly blame you for getting swept up in holiday enthusiasm.

But he still wants cookies.

Even with the main lights off, the way is clear enough; the lights strung around the Christmas tree casts a brilliant glow that he can see the moment he opens his bedroom door. He follows this down the hallway, through the doorway, and over to the coffee table in the living room, where there sits the source of his desires.

He stares down at the plate for a long, long moment. 

He can't even see the plate’s design with how high it’s stacked with cookies. Peanut butter blossoms, chocolate chip, snickerdoodles, ginger snaps, sugar cookies cut into festive designs, both with and without icing, along with a few peppermints and squares of rich chocolate fudge -- it's a veritable cornucopia of sweets.

He kneels, a petulant frown on his face, and his hands come to rest at the edge of the table.

He _should_ have been allowed to have some. He even helped make them! Mostly by running out to the grocery store to get ingredients when they ran out at the last minute and stirring the contents of various bowls you had handed him, but -- _still_.

So in a fit of pique, he plucks a cookie from the pile and pops it into his mouth. One of the snickerdoodles, he finds as he chews. Damn, that's good.

He picks up the next few cookies on top -- one chocolate chip, two peanut butter blossoms, and a sugar cookie shaped and decorated like a candy cane -- and sets to work devouring them, cramming more into his mouth the moment he’s able. At this point, it's more about getting what he's owed than sating a craving for sugar.

He's just picked up a piece of fudge when he hears footsteps and he freezes.

 _Shit_.

If he stays perfectly still here, the dimness of the room should prevent him from being seen, unless someone happens to poke their head into the room.

The footsteps are coming from the hallway, but he can't tell who they belong to yet -- but either way, he doesn't particularly want to be seen here, on his knees, mouth crammed full with cookies. He holds his breath, and after a moment the footsteps pass the doorway and fade into the distance.

He heaves a sigh of relief and relaxes -- then jumps when the footsteps abruptly return, quicker than they were moving before, quicker than he can react and try to hide. 

“Saeran?”

Oh, damn it, it's you. He looks behind him slowly, and sure enough, there you stand, looking a little bleary-eyed in your pajamas. It's no wonder; it must be nearly 3am.

“...hi,” he attempts to say, but it's spoken with a shower of crumbs.

“Are you…” your eyes narrow and you step into the room. “Are you eating the cookies we left for Santa?”

He frowns, a flash of annoyance passing through him. “Yes,” he says, another, smaller burst of crumbs spilling into his lap.

“But… why?” your voice is sleep-addled.

Saeran’s frown deepens. “Wanted cookies.”

“These cookies?”

“Weren't any others.”

“But what about…” you rub at your eyes as you pad over to him and sink to the carpet beside him. “Mm, no,” you decide, “after we sent out the packages, we left most of the last batch with Yoosung when we visited yesterday, didn't we? Hmm.”

You frown a little and he twists his hands in his lap, suddenly hit by a wave of embarrassment.

“Why didn't you ask me to make more for you?” you ask. “Now it's kind of…” you gesture to the plate, which is no longer the bearer of a perfect tower of cookies. It looks… exactly like how he'd expect something that’s endured several minutes of determined rummaging to look. He’s broken a few cookies in his haste, and pushed some aside, and it's not a particularly _nice_ display he’s left behind.

“Because--” he starts, then cuts himself off. Because you'd looked so _happy_ getting everything ready and he didn't want to be a bitter, bratty boyfriend who demands sweets to placate him.  Look how well that's turned out. “...you were so excited to do Christmas right, I didn't want to distract you, or make you work on something just for me,” he admits.

“Oh,” you say. You blink bleary eyes at him, then reach to take his hands in yours. “Saeran…”

He braces himself to be chastised for this impulsive, stupid decision, but you give him a tired smile.

“...you know, we were going to eat them in the morning, anyway,” you say.

“Oh.”

And then you shake your head and squeeze his hands. “I’d have made more if I knew you wanted some, I’m sorry.”

“ _I’m_ sorry I ruined them. ...they were really good.”

You snort. “Hey, I knew coming into this what kind of sweet tooth you had, I should have anticipated this.” Your words draw a smile from him, and you beam. “If they were meant for you, I can't say you ruined them by eating them ahead of schedule. At most, I guess Seven might be a _little_ bummed about it, but…”

You rearrange the cookies on the plate until there's some semblance of order to them, then beam a him. “There, perfect! Can't even tell.”

He can absolutely tell, but he appreciates the gesture anyway.

You tilt your head contemplatively. “And hey, think of it this way -- now I know that my baking is so good, it keeps my boyfriend up at night with cravings, so that's a pretty nice ego-boost. That makes us even, I think.”

He flushes at the term _boyfriend._ Even though it's not exactly a new development, it's still new enough to elixir a thrill of happiness every time he hears it.

And then he smirks, realizing the opening you've given him. “Well… that's not all that keeps me up at night,” he says, and he tugs your hands to draw you in closer, leaning in for a kiss -- until he sees movement over your shoulder. “...hey, what's--”

“ ** _HO HO HO!_ ** ”

You and Saeran shriek in unison, clinging to each other and leaning away from the source of the noise, a figure towering above the two of you. The flow from the Christmas tree does not afford enough light to see the figure beyond their red suit; their face remains cloaked in shadow.

They click their tongue. “What's this? Children out of bed at this hour? Naughty, naughty~” The figure wags their gloved finger and Saeran leans forward, squinting.

“ _Saeyoung?_ ”

The figure -- now clearly recognizable as his brother -- places his hands on his hips and laughs, far more exuberantly than the Santa-like laugh he's used before. This doesn't stop him from adopting a fake voice when he speaks, though.

“Why, of course not! It is I, Santa Claus, here to deliver presents to good little children. You, however, may have to get coal for creeping out of bed so late--”

He’s interrupted when Saeran grabs a piece of fudge from the plate and flings it at him.

The fudge sticks to Saeyoung’s forehead for a long moment before sliding off. It plops to the floor while he just stands there, stunned. Somehow, watching it go to waste only makes the interruption worse.

Saeran laces his fingers with yours and pulls you to stand when he does, pushing past his brother and pulling you along with him.

“Wait -- where are we going?” you ask.

“My room.” His room is nicer than the guest room you were using, anyway. Kind of. Really, the only difference is that _he’s_ in his room, but he hopes you'll think of that as an upgrade. “Santa wants us in bed. We're going to bed.” You don't protest, only giving an amused laugh and gently squeeze his hand, so he’s smug when he looks over his shoulder to stick his tongue out at his brother.

Saeyoung, however, is giving him two enthusiastic thumbs up, and Saeran flushes scarlet.

“To _sleep!_ ” he clarifies, ducking his head and quickening his pace.

Seven’s laugh follows him all the way to his bedroom.

(But he does, he finds, sleep better curled around you, so… he supposes he could _maybe_ forgive his brother for being a nuisance, just this once. It’s in the spirit of Christmas, after all.)

**Author's Note:**

> merry christmas to all, and to all a good night


End file.
